‘I think that has as much to do with your free and bountiful hospitality as it has to do with the magic of the place.’
‘Darling, that’s very unfair. My friends are not unwelcome parasites, but people I choose to entertain in my house. I have a gift for friendship.’
‘So I have to spend my holiday with a bunch of nutters?’
‘If you came more often I wouldn’t have to fill the house with other people. You know I would put you and the children above all my friends. Anyway, don’t write them off so quickly. Caradoc is fascinating. His knowledge of history is vast and wonderful. You should ask him about it. I think that is what keeps him young – history and poetry.’
‘What about Maxwell and Dizzy? They’re beyond dreadful!’
‘Yes, they are rather dull, aren’t they? Friends of your cousin Costanza. It is not often that I come across bad apples in the apple cart! They must leave. We might have to pretend the palazzo is haunted!’
5
They wandered down the hill, through a second avenue of cypress trees to the folly, a small grey stone building overlooking the sea. ‘This is it,’ said Romina. ‘Isn’t it enchanting?’ It was perfectly symmetrical with a tall window either side of a large double door.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, turning the key in the rusty old lock. ‘A lovers’ hideaway perhaps.’ The door creaked open, revealing a harmonious square room with terracotta walls and a domed ceiling painted with a fresco of fat little cherubs in a pale blue sky. In the centre was a four-poster bed with heavy silk drapes that were once green. In front of one window stood a pretty walnut desk; before the other, a dressing-table. The walls were covered with paintings of nude boys, the bookshelves full of erotica. In an alcove stood a replica statue of Donatello’s David.
‘The previous owner clearly loved sex,’ said Luca in amusement. ‘Who was he?’
‘We don’t know. The sale was done through solicitors. I think the man must be very old. He didn’t take anything with him. The palazzo was built by the Montelimone family about four hundred years ago. A famously grand family. I gather the late Marchese was quite a character because whenever I mention him people raise their eyebrows. After he died I don’t know who bought it. No one wants to elaborate. Perhaps they don’t even know. Anyway, when we found it it was a ruin and completely empty but for an old leather chair and a bed, which we burned. But this was beautifully preserved. It didn’t feel right to change it. It’s rather beautiful, don’t you think?’
‘Have you been sleeping in here?’ Luca asked, pointing at the unmade bed.
‘No,’ said Romina, pursing her lips irritably. ‘I think your father must have been coming in here for a nap. The only place to get a little peace. I don’t allow our guests to come in here. I keep it locked.’
‘I don’t blame him, the bed looks very comfortable.’
‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’ she agreed, placing her hands on her hips. ‘Still, I don’t like anyone to use it, not even your father. There’s something rather sad about its state of neglect. Now you’re here to translate, I’ll send the professor off to find out about the previous owner. Give the old man something to do, he’s such a character. And I’m rather intrigued, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Luca replied, his curiosity mounting. ‘Why would someone leave without taking their belongings with them?’
That afternoon he lay beside the pool reading a Wilbur Smith novel. The sun was warm on his skin, a silky breeze keeping him pleasantly cool. He forgot about the professor. Later, he borrowed his mother’s car and drove into town, parking the car in the square that was dominated by the church of San Pasquale with its white walls and mosaic dome. In the centre there was a little park with palm trees and benches where women sat gossiping in the shade while children played around a fountain, giggling, with excitement. Luca recognised one little boy as the child on the beach. He was the only one not wearing a school smock. He looked around for the boy’s mother, but she was nowhere to be seen.
It was pleasant not having to talk to anyone or explain himself. He wandered over to a caffè and ordered an espresso, then sat back and smoked languidly. It wasn’t long before he had company. ‘Buona sera.’ The woman was slim and olive-skinned with curly brown hair and the confident gaze of a sophisticated manipulator. ‘Do you have a light?’ Her full lips curled into a smile, her eyes promised more.
‘Sure.’